I Have an Endless Joy
I have an endless joy in these—
The orange tips of willow trees;
The rusty brown of quiet pools;
The underneaths of mushroom stools;
The musky scent of golden gorse;
The stately tree-fern, and the sponginess of thick-grown moss…
And cattle madly fleeing from a train;
And far-off clouds that drape grey veils of rain
Across a fading sky…
The sound that quail make when they fly…
The scent of rain-washed ferns, and yellow broom;
And fluffy sprays of pollened wattle-bloom…
And autumn leaves … and bulbs among the grass…
And frosted earth that crunches as you pass…
And now, from out the honey-laden trees,
A tui's burst of praise has crowned all these.

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Lullaby
Dearest, tuck the bed clothes in
While I sing to thee
Of the buds that I have found
On the apple-tree;
Of the violets I have seen
Peeping through the grass—
Hush, my little sleepy one,
I hear the Sandman pass!

Dearest, close your dreaming eyes—
Night is coming soon;
Primroses shall dance for you
Underneath the moon.
Scent of brown and yellow broom
Clings about the wall—
Hush, my little sleepy one,
I hear the Sandman call!

Escape
I went a-singing
Out of the town,
Where grey hawks were winging
Up hill and down.
Just for a little
I let the world fall,
And found myself poorer
By nothing at all.

Molly Howden.